Brett Anderson – ‘Brett Anderson’

Brett Anderson – ‘Brett Anderson’ (Released 26/03/07 on Drowned in Sound Recordings) 

When asked about the name of his forthcoming solo album, with a slight lilt of frustration towards the music press he has little love for, the former Suede and The Tears star replied: “It’s called that, because that’s my name, you see.” Keen to emerge from the Anderson/Butler stable, the most prolific since Morrissey/Marr, and establish himself as a solid songsmith in his own write, this set of tracks, loosely penned in 2004, confirm Anderson has partially fulfilled that desire. Brett Anderson musically is an overtly string and keys-laden record, with pockets of electric guitar that Anderson laid down himself. Lyrically it is wistful, mourning and evocative of Dog Man Star in its heavy melancholia but the sound is much less grandiose than on Suede’s sophomore. Given the combination of eponymy and Anderson’s stated wish to “rediscover his demon”, it’s obvious much of the subject matter is awash with personal musings, making this at times an overly-wrought collection of songs, hammered by Anderson’s sentiment. Detractors will cry self-pity, but to do so would be ad hominem and would miss the point of the record.Opener is the moving ‘Love Is Dead’, the debut single which Anderson describes as his greatest work since ‘Trash’. Evidently an artist who sets the bar high, as Here Come The Tears was one of the most underrated releases of 2005. Of that decade-best work, the opening lament: “Nothing ever goes right, nothing really flows in my life” sets the pensive tone of the remaining ten tracks. It is a medium-paced ballad, set against a warming string arrangement, the lyrics of which towards the end breach an ever more aching tone: “No one ever cares if there’s horrors inside my head”.  One only need to cast back to Suede’s catalogue to realise the sneer “Plastic people” is lifted from ‘Sadie’.

‘Dust And Rain’ is the only track which leaves balladry behind. Led by the electric guitar, its forceful refrain “I am the dust, you are the rain / I am the needle, you are the vein” is a classic Anderson cliché, harking back to the symbiotic relationship of two people consumed by drug abuse, noted first in ‘New Generation’: “We’d take the pills to find each other”.These are examples of the very few cuts of Britain’s erstwhile ‘Best New Band’ (Mercury prize winners and all) to be found on this record. Of course none of the former glam or pop-fopp trash is there. Nor are the lyrics the sort to whip what’s left of Fleet Street’s culture crews into a punning frenzy not seen since dissecting the sexualism of ‘Animal Nitrate’. The voice retains its characteristic arty whine however, but is much less exaggerated.Cynicism of the dynamics of an unsettled world is a dominant theme on this release, best evidenced by the entertaining anticonsumerist rant ‘The More We Possess The Less We Own Of Ourselves’, a stab at the grab ‘n’ have psyche.

‘To The Winter’ opens with supple orchestral strings, which intially betray the tumult of the track. Giving way to moderately rockist guitar, to accompany the tending-on-the-neurotic “Didn’t you know there’s a monster in me?” This is one of the album’s standout numbers and currently opens Anderson’s live shows.

‘Ebony’ is a stirring trip down a memory lane in NW8: “Wander down to Lisson Grove / It was somewhere we used to go”.

Odd track ‘Scorpio Rising’ is led by its luscious, haunting guitar melody, which midway through is joined by the flute. Despite such gentle instrumentation, the song is just as dark as anything else on the album: “There’s anger in their skin / …They move with murder in their veins”.  Unfortunately it’s hard to work out where Anderson is going with this song. The music becomes plodding until it collapses under lack of structure.Resting on his former prince of Britpop laurels comes at times all too easy: “I went and sat in Crystal Palace / With the plastic dinosaurs” could have been lifted from that winning entry in a local essay competition, aged seven.

Closing track ‘Song For My Father’ is an instant highlight and clearly draws on his father’s death in 2005. Demonstrating his better aptitude as a wordsmith, particularly in the lyric: “My life was a flower and love was the leaves / But nobody saw any beauty in me”. The weird noise-interspersed outro, courtesy of co-producer Fred Ball, creates an apt, epic finale to a solid record.

Brett Anderson is a window into the mind of one of Britain’s most iconic musicians. That mind as portrayed on this testimony is lonely, frustated, and dismayed. The self-described emotional arrest that accompanied spending one’s twenties in one of the 90’s most successful bands has ceased, it seems, and here is the result.

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